Irresistible Affair: Irresistible Love, #2

By Kaylee Monroe

It didn't matter that he was my best friend's dad, or that he was over twenty years older than me . . . Clive Davenport was my ultimate unattainable fantasy man.

Sleeping with my best friend's dad never should have happened, but it did and I don't regret a thing. Not when he'd given me the hottest, most decadent night of my life.

I've been in love with him for years, but for as confident and demanding as he is in the bedroom, once the sheets have cooled he's riddled with misgivings. He's already done the marriage and family thing, and he insists I deserve that, too . . . with another man who isn't old enough to be my daddy.

I don't agree, and I'm just going to have to convince him otherwise—that I'm everything he wants and needs despite the obstacles standing in our way.

Irresistible Affair is a steamy, forbidden,best friend's dad, age-gap romance with a guaranteed happily ever after.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kaylee Monroe
• Release date: Oct 27, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223415305

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Frankie

Six months ago

I need a favor, my best friend, Marcie, said. Through my cellphone connection, she sounded weak and breathless, and not in a fun way. In the background, I heard a muffled flushing sound.

I lounged on my couch, waiting for my first coat of Naughty or Nice Red polish to dry on my toenails before I started on the second. Anything for you, Marse.

Do you have any plans for tonight? Her voice caught mid-sentence, like she was swallowing something. It sounded…gross.

I leaned over and started on my left big toe again. "Nope. I’m all yours, but you don’t sound great, so do you really want to go anywhere?"

On the other end of the line, I heard an unmistakable retching noise. I grimaced and pulled the phone away from my ear until she finished throwing her guts up.

Remember that sushi place yesterday? she said when she returned to the phone, sounding even worse. The one a couple blocks up from the store?

I capped my nail polish and set it on the coffee table, then reached for the topcoat. Yeah, the one that Kresley and I refused to eat at with you because it had bare bulbs dangling from the ceiling? Unforgettable.

Well, you made the right choice, Marcie said. I’ve been throwing up all afternoon and I think I just live on my bathroom floor now.

Do you need me to help you with anything? Gatorade? Hold your hair back? I asked, balancing the phone against my shoulder as I brushed the clear topcoat over my gleaming red toes.

No, nothing like that. She sighed, sounding exhausted. Dad’s in town. He got a dinner reservation for us at the Screech Owl.

I felt a gentle pang in my chest when she mentioned her gorgeous, sexy father, but ignored the sensation and instead clucked in sympathy at Marcie’s disappointment. "Aw, Marse, that sucks. You’ve wanted to try that place forever."

Honestly, I don’t think I’m ever going to eat again, so it’s not a huge deal to me right now, she replied weakly. But I don’t want Dad to spend his evening sitting at the hotel bar or alone in his room. Would you go with him? He likes you and plus, he’ll totally pay.

Suddenly, I wanted to barf, but not from any funky shellfish. It was spending an evening at a trendy, dimly lit restaurant with Clive Davenport, my best friend’s dad and the man I’d been lusting over since his daughter and I shared a dorm room when we were eighteen.

It was just a crush, I told myself at the time. Except people were supposed to get over crushes, and when it came to Clive, I was very much still under the whole thing. And frankly, it hurt—at twenty-four, I should have been fucking my way through the Pacific Northwest and having a great time doing it. Instead, I was rolling through unsatisfying relationships and flings while I thought about my best friend’s dad the whole time.

She’d be absolutely shocked if she knew.

C’mon, Marcie, I said lightly. Your hot dad doesn’t want to spend the evening with me.

It might have been an excuse, but I felt the truth of it even as the words came out of my mouth. Why would he want to spend time with me? I was just his daughter’s party girl best friend. Her employee, for crying out loud.

Francesca Pallas, Marcie said, her tone suddenly brisk. Or at least as brisk as a person could sound between bouts of bad shellfish-induced vomiting. You’re great and my dad thinks you’re great. Just go out, get a free fancy dinner, order a few top shelf cocktails and then later you can tell me how good it was.

The end of her sentence trailed off into loud heaves as she upchucked into the toilet one more time. I sat and patiently admired my freshly polished toenails until she finished. A minute later, she was back, out of breath again.

"Please, Frankie, she said softly. My dad loves it out here, and he’s been really excited about this visit to Seattle. I don’t want him to be all alone and miserable."

She sounded so sincere and sad that my last threads of resistance snapped.

Okay, Marse, I said gently. I’ll go to dinner with your dad. Do you need me to drop by your apartment with anything before I meet him? You never said.

I— she started, but before she got another word out, she retched violently again. I pushed back my wild curls and grimaced. I was surprised she had anything left in her stomach.

Gatorade would be good, Marcie finally said.

I’ll drop some off on my way to have dinner with your dad, I promised.

And maybe, if I was lucky, God would have mercy on me and Clive wouldn’t be as perfect as I remembered.

I wanted to scream. If anything, Clive looked even better than the last time I saw him at an event for Marcie’s consignment store, the Blind Hem, where I worked for her.

He’d been hitting the weights or something, and his tall frame, already lean and fit, filled out his suit jacket to perfection. Even my Screech Owl entrée, so fancy that I had no idea what half the ingredients were and the menu didn’t list a price, tasted like dust because I was so hyper focused on Clive.

His nearness, the seductive scent of his cologne, the solid way he felt against me when he greeted me with a hug when I’d arrived. And he was kind and funny and charming the whole-time during cocktails and our meal, never once betraying that he felt anything other than something resembling paternal affection for me. I drank in every second of it, even though I knew better than to hope for something more with this beautiful, brilliant man.

So Frankie, he rumbled in that deep, perfect voice. He set his elbows on the table and linked his fingers together as he locked his warm brown eyes on me and cocked his head. "How have you been doing? We’ve been talking about the store and work and everything, but I want to hear about you."

I took a hurried sip of red wine and pushed my dark curls back over my shoulder. Things are good, I said. Great, honestly.

Great? he pressed, tipping his head skeptically. C’mon, we’ve known each other for years. I really do want to know how you’re doing.

It took me a second to think of what to say—so few people outside of Marcie and my other best friend, Kresley, ever really did ask me that question and want the real answer. I was good time Frankie, so everyone always assumed the answer was I’m fabulous, thanks, and we’re meeting for cocktails later if you’d like to join us.

Was it safe to confide in Clive? Sure, he was my ultimate unattainable fantasy, but he was also a good person. Kind. And a great listener. He always had been.

Personally, spinning my wheels a little bit, I think, I said carefully. I like to go out and have a good time, be the life of the party, whatever, but it… I trailed off with a shrug, unsure how to explain it. "Sometimes I feel a little bit—I don’t know, boxed in, I guess. Like people think that’s all there is to me."

Clive raised an eyebrow. How do you mean?

I sighed and swirled my wine in my glass. I dated this guy for a little while—a finance bro. You know, very into the whole startup scene and trying to get angel investors for something he and his friends had cooked up.

I’ll be honest, he already sounds like a dipshit, he said, wrinkling his nose. Does this story have a happy ending?

Of course not. I tried to make it sound like a joke, but it was hard to deny the slight bitterness lacing my tone. "We broke up, and he told me that I was…well, unserious was the word he used."

Clive grimaced. Oh, ouch.

Yeah, I said, remembering how much that statement hurt. I told him to have a nice life.

He took a deep breath and frowned, like he was thinking hard about what he wanted to say next, but before he could open his mouth and get it out, our server dropped the slim leather folio with the bill on the table. Clive didn’t miss a beat—he pulled out a black credit card and tucked it inside, handing it back to the server before she even had a chance to walk away.

Do you want to get out of here and go for a walk? he asked. I think and talk better on my feet, and then maybe we can grab another drink or something. He glanced down at his watch—expensive-looking gold and leather, the kind of thing that people called a timepiece because it sounded classier than plain old watch. It’s not even that late. What do you say? Sounds like you have some stuff on your mind, and honestly, I’m not in the mood to go sit alone in my hotel just yet.

The server placed the folio back on the table, and Clive grabbed his card and slid it back into his wallet before signing the slip inside.

You in? he asked again. He stood and held his hand out to me.

I felt something spark, deep in my heart, buried underneath the layers of disappointment and unrequited affection. I placed my hand in his and let him pull me to my feet, trying not to imagine what tonight would have been like had this been a real date.

I smiled and decided I didn’t want to be alone tonight just yet, either. Let’s go.

"So I know you’re not unserious, Clive said as we exited the restaurant and he let go of my hand. And Marcie and Kresley definitely take you seriously. I guess the question is, do you take yourself seriously?"

The sunset blazed over the city as we strolled down the street, a last few minutes of warm sunshine before the cool evening breezes off the bay took over. Every so often, our fingertips would brush, and the fleeting touches jolted through my body like electricity. I felt better out here,